River of Angels

by Alejandro Morales

  When Ernest took Allison to their new home in Hancock Park, it was only one short block away and across the street from Oakley and Agatha Rivers’ new residence. Being neighbors, their children were destined to grow up together. Agatha and Allison, at first meeting, became close friends. Allison’s children, Louise and her sisters Emily and Gloria, became friends with Albert and Dame Marie. Louise, Emily, Gloria and Dame Marie all attended the Marlborough School for Girls. As a young boy, Albert had enjoyed hanging around with his sister and her friends. There were no boys on his block. Nobody at school knew that he played with the girls. His school friends lived far away and, although Sol would drive him to visit them, sometimes Albert spent time with the girls. As Albert grew older his interest centered on going to the river with Uncle Sol. He went eagerly to visit the River Mother or to explore the river, and also began to take an interest in automobiles and the way they worked. Sol taught Albert how to disassemble, down to the nuts and bolts, and rebuild a car engine. Sol’s lessons in mechanics encouraged his nephew to seek more information about engineering, architecture and mathematics. Albert was well ahead of the class when it came to mathematics. His first year in high school he excelled in advanced mathematics and science, and his teachers encouraged him to consider going to medical school, but Albert, since he had started working on motors with Sol, had his heart set on becoming an engineer, like the men who worked for his father. Oakley, who never had any university training, was nevertheless considered a master structural engineer by his peers in the field. After junior high, Albert seldom associated with Dame Marie and her friends. Of course, he met his obligations as a big brother and never said no to his mother when she asked him to help his sister, and he agreed to tutor one of the Keller girls.

  It was the Keller girls’ mother, Allison Fulbert Greenmuth Keller, who encouraged, demanded that their girls excel in school. She insisted to Ernest that their daughters go to the university and be professional women—an idea that, at first, Ernest simply did not take seriously. Allison never ceased to remind him that she came from a family with a long line of successful women. Both her parents, born in Philadelphia, had inherited the wealth of their respective families’ European import businesses. One imported French fashions and the other European fabrics. Allison’s grandparents had emigrated from France to the United States in the late nineteenth century. Allison still had family in Paris where, as a young girl, she had made frequent visits to her relatives. She spoke some French but never achieved spoken fluency, although she read French quite well. She attended the best Philadelphia schools and graduated from Bryn Mawr, the sister school of the University of Pennsylvania, with honors in philosophy. Allison had a sharp mind and an inclination for science, mathematics and logic. She had thought of attending Harvard Law School about the time when Ernest went to her parents with his proposal of marriage. To marry Ernest was the only opportunity that could pull her away from furthering her education. Her parents had maneuvered well through the Philadelphia social elite, meeting the Keller family and finally, without directly suggesting it, making Ernest’s proposal happen. It was a joyous time for Allison’s parents and family, and for Allison, who had waited for Ernest since the day she understood she loved him.

  Back in Philadelphia, the first time they had been allowed to be together as an officially engaged couple, Ernest and Allison had gone on a hike in a nearby forest. There in the stillness and silence of nature they met each other, and the result was that she became pregnant. Their wedding had been announced by both families, but Ernest asked that the ceremony and celebration be earlier because he urgently needed to return to California due to some kind of financial crisis in the company. The very next day after the wedding, Ernest shipped gifts and hundreds of household items, including some two hundred pieces of fine furniture that his parents had given the newlyweds. Allison’s dowry had been extremely generous. From that first day when they moved into their new home in Hancock Park, Alison consistently made it clear that she would have a voice in their family’s future.

  Ernest and Allison Keller’s married life progressed wonderfully except for one issue that became a thorn and eventually a painful open wound in Ernest’s side. Since Ernest’s arrival with Allison, his Uncle Philip continually insisted on involving himself in family affairs. He started to visit the house more and more, always managing to stay for dinner. He repeated how proud and excited he was that they were expecting a baby and how wonderful it would be if they had a male child. Repeatedly, he reminded them that they should have male babies, sons who would take over the business and continue the Keller lineage. Uncle Philip repeated his prayer for a male child and took pride in that the child would add to the white leadership in California. Then, to Uncle Philip’s great disappointment, Allison’s first child was a girl: Louise. And then a second child, Emily, was born. And worse, in a couple of years, a third female child: Gloria. Uncle Philip did not hide his dissatisfaction

  “It’s a damn curse, Ernest! You must keep trying for a boy.”

  Ernest listened to his uncle, who became more like a father. After Gloria was born, the doctor advised Allison not to have any more children. Her uterus had weakened to the point that she might not be able to hold the next pregnancy, thereby endangering the fetus and herself. The doctor recommended exercises to strengthen the uterus, and, on Ernest’s insistence, she did the exercises faithfully every day. Behind Ernest’s request was Uncle Philip urging his nephew to have a baby boy to carry on the Keller name. All the while, Ernest and Allison’s love-making became more frequent. She would do whatever she needed to have a boy for her husband. But the fourth pregnancy never came, and Uncle Philip’s manchild never materialized. Yet there was always a smile on Ernest’s face as he allowed his wife to do whatever she suggested might bring on a baby boy. Secretly, it bothered him that they could not conceive a boy, no matter what they tried. In Uncle Philip’s eyes it was Allison who had failed to produce a boy. It was Allison and her ideas about women being equal to men, her claims that, if given a chance, her daughters could run the family business just as well as Ernest and Uncle Philip.

  Uncle Philip gradually pulled away from Allison. Of course he was polite, but it was clear that her thinking irritated him. He supported his nieces, yet he warned Ernest that he should not allow Allison to poison the girls’ minds with silly nonsense about women’s rights and equality; they would only be hurt and disappointed as a result of such nonsensical ideas.

  Male children were important to continue the Aryan race. Uncle Philip believed that European Aryans had to continue their bloodlines in America and particularly in Southern California, where there was so much potential for pollution from mongrel races. Soon after Ernest returned from Philadelphia, Uncle Philip had introduced him to the Aryan Club of Southern California. The members, all of white northern European stock, wanted to make Los Angeles a new-world Aryan fatherland. Most of the members were wealthy professionals involved in government, banking, publishing, real estate, science and education. They had attended universities either in the East or in the old country. They believed in God and were convinced that they had a sacred duty to establish and maintain Southern California as an Aryan-led community. They invested time and money towards accomplishing this goal, sponsoring public educational meetings and featuring cultural programs relating to northern European countries. The most important business of the society was conducted at secret locations, usually on or near the University of Southern California campus. A prominent eugenicist and member of the Aryan Club of Southern California was also a professor at the University of Southern California and a close friend of Philip Keller.

  At one of the meetings the club president lectured on Aryan superiority and explained how Charles Darwin’s “Theory of Natural Selection” and Herbert Spencer’s “On the Survival of the Fittest” were easily applicable and perceivable in the various racial communities of Los Angeles. The president’s presentation suggested to Ernest that he was an Aryan person dest
ined by sacred right to lead in the construction of Los Angeles. Being constantly told by Uncle Philip and his colleagues that he and his kind were superior led him to hire Mexicans, Asians, blacks and Indians, and pay them as little as possible.

  According to the experts—Darwinists, university professors, members of the Aryan Club of Southern California—Indians, particularly of the California tribes, were inherently inferior, prone to drunkenness and infested with diseases like tuberculosis and syphilis. Syphilis had devastated this race by lowering their mental capacities to the point of making most unemployable and completely untrustworthy. The Chinese were an ugly disfigured race, a people who would never look you directly in the eye—always mysterious, deceiving, treacherous and suspicious. Negroes were consummately lazy, a people who required endlessly repeated instructions; they still had a slave mentality, worked only when beaten and under constant surveillance. Mexicans were half-breed mongrels who could not follow instructions; they were retarded and docile enough to work from sunup to sundown or longer, stupid like donkeys that never complained about the abuse. Every day at the lumber yard and at the construction sites a parade of mixed-race workers, mostly Mexicans, reported to work. Ernest had to consider the budget, had to deal with the reality of business economics. The only way he could make a substantial profit was to employ Mexicans eager to work for him in dangerous working conditions and for substandard wages.

  One morning, at six, standing on the bed of a pickup truck, Ernest and his foreman observed preparations for the pouring of tons of cement into a fifteen-foot-deep by ten-foot-wide foundation for a huge water tank facility on the edge of Griffith Park. The water was to be used to maintain the park and for a herd of cattle owned by Samuel P. Huntington, a wealthy railroad entrepreneur. That morning, about twenty-five men, all Mexicans, worked on the preparation, crane operation and the pouring of cement into the water tank footings. Ernest’s foreman ordered that a five-hundred-pound small scoop shovel be used to test run the operation several times before using a bigger scoop. Ten men standing at the edge of the footing guided the crane and scoop to the point over the pit where the cement would be poured. They held the scoop in place and signaled the crane operator to open it. Out poured five hundred pounds of Portland fast-setting cement. The first run was a complete success, and the second went so well that Ernest ordered the men to change the scoop shovel to one that carried approximately one thousand pounds of cement. “Only half full!” Ernest ordered. The men filled half the shovel for the first try. While the cement was being poured into the shovel, two workers got ready to check the lock releases under the shovel. Once the pouring stopped, Ernest, the foreman and several young Mexican workers watched as two men squatted under the huge scoop shovel to check the locks. Ernest could see only one of the men, while the other man checked the lock on the other side of the scoop. The man whom Ernest could see signaled that his side was secure. Ernest immediately ordered the foreman to carry on the pour. While the crane slowly lifted the scoop, shouting broke out from the far side. Ernest did not understand Spanish. He ignored the workers’ screams and motioned to the crane operator to position the fully loaded scoop over the pit. The scoop turned slightly, following the boss’ directions. The men below attempted to wave off the crane operator by yelling to pull the scoop away and down. Several started to climb onto the crane. The operator had his eyes fixed on Ernest, who gave the signal to pour. The scoop turned a little more and opened. At that instant Ernest saw a worker hanging by his arm, trapped in the latch release lock that was almost fully opened. The cement started to pour, the worker’s arm freed as he screamed, falling to the bottom of the foundation. Five hundred pounds of fast-drying Portland cement entombed the Mexican worker. The crane shut down. Silence fell on the site where Ernest Keller had made a hasty decision, a decision between deadline and life. He saw his worker at the last second. There was nothing he could have done; it was over in seconds. Ernest’s thoughts came fast. He looked up to see the crane operator still staring at him, now surrounded by the Mexicans who had shut down the crane. Ernest looked down into the pit. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair, walked off the scaffolding, got to his car thinking that the job was simply too difficult for some men.

  SOL SUDDENLY SHIVERED, a chill crossed his back. He inhaled and took in only half a breath, straightened up in the truck seat, quickly rolled down the window and leaned his head outside just enough to let the rushing air cool his face. He took a deep breath, relaxed and turned onto South Grand Avenue and in a minute slowed down and stopped before the Biltmore Hotel. Sol looked at his sister-in-law, Agatha, and smiled. He was glad that she hadn’t noticed his earlier discomfort. Sol started to get out, but the valet had already opened the door of the Sun Construction pickup truck. He had taken the company’s newest truck. It was important to him that Agatha feel comfortable driving up to one of Los Angeles’ most elegant hotels. The Biltmore had opened in 1923 and had gained a reputation for being the home away from home of kings, presidents and Hollywood celebrities. The valet tipped his hat, and Agatha took his hand. He closed the door and took a moment to read “Sun Construction Company” painted on the door. The valet acknowledged Sol and waved him along as other cars were now lining up behind his pickup. Sol watched Agatha enter through the large heavy doors to the hotel. “Move on, sir.” The valet raised his voice just enough to get Sol’s attention. Agatha walked to the middle of the reception foyer, glancing up at the ornately carved ceilings and its murals of scenes from classical mythology. Standing directly beneath a crystal chandelier, the people who walked about her were well-dressed businessmen and women who wore the latest European fashions. She tugged at her simple tailored coat and felt confident and comfortable. Her first impressions of the Biltmore were comfort and the idea that nobody here seemed to be looking at what you wore or who you might be. People moved about doing their jobs. These were working men and women—some rich, perhaps, but nonetheless working, she thought. Agatha was the person staring. She chided herself and moved down the hall to the Grand Restaurant. Yes, it certainly did not feel like the stuffy Ambassador, Los Angeles’ senior hotel. She and Oakley had dined there to experience that hotel’s elitism and arrogance. Uncle Philip had invited Ernest and Allison to several balls at the Ambassador which led Allison to agree with Agatha that old families, old money, old tradition, old thinking characterized the Ambassador crowd, while at the Biltmore new working-class wealth frequented the facility. Maybe the new Los Angeles entrepreneurs, including Agatha and Allison, went to the Biltmore because it made them feel closer to the roots, the people. They both sensed that they were really down-to-earth women. A man in a tuxedo walked toward Agatha, appearing to recognize her.

  “Mrs. Rivers. Welcome to the Biltmore! Mrs. Keller already is here. This way, please. I’m sorry you had to wait.”

  Agatha followed the maître d’, weaving through the elegant tables in the large dining room. Most of the tables were taken by seemingly important men who enjoyed what appeared to be delicious meals and rich red wines. At times men leaned into the tables as if they were sharing crucial information, perhaps about lucrative business deals. They pushed away, laughing. Several men glanced her way. One seemed to follow her, never taking his eyes off her. Rude, Agatha thought, rude. Against a sunny window at an elegant table prepared for two sat Allison Fulbert Greenmuth Keller. She, unlike the other women, was attired in a daring flapper-style green dress partly revealing her milk-white shoulders covered with a golden silk shawl. Being neighbors in Hancock Park, living one block apart and watching their children become close playmates, both Agatha and Allison often conferred with each other about their children. As their children grew and became closer, so did Agatha and Allison. Eventually they became close friends, whose confidence in one another developed, permitting them to share their most intimate feelings and worries. They had become like sisters. There was nothing one did not know about the other. They considered themselves progressive women who were able to tell
their husbands that they would be going out by themselves to enjoy the city. Above all, they did not want escorts, and they both enjoyed driving. Driving was the first thing Allison learned when she came to Los Angeles. The city was not like Philadelphia, Boston or New York, places where you could walk comfortably to get wherever you needed to be. Los Angeles was a city of distances where a car was essential. Allison learned to drive within a month of her arrival. Agatha became her navigator. The two women went everywhere together. They explored every section of the city. They discovered the many neighborhoods and distinct ethnic areas, and they found, tasted and learned how to prepare the variety of foods of Los Angeles. They also discovered some of the best restaurants in the city. They gladly took their families to these neighborhoods and restaurants, educating their children and their husbands. Ernest was the one who put up the most resistance to going into areas of the city he did not like.

  “You can get sick eating at those places!”

  Oakley was the easiest to convince. He willingly accompanied the women. Allison and Agatha made sure they had their time set aside to get away from husband, family and household. They cherished having time for themselves, and today’s luncheon happened to be one of those select occasions. Allison had already arranged the meal with the maître d’. She knew Agatha would object to her going ahead and making the selections, but Allison was impetuous and could not help herself. Agatha did not even ask for the menu. For the specials, the chef had prepared a traditional Napolitano cuisine that the maître d’ had enthusiastically recommended.